


Will That Be All?

by snarkasaurus



Series: Fictober 2018 [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-18 20:46:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16524350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkasaurus/pseuds/snarkasaurus
Summary: Fictober 2018 Day 4. Stiles





	Will That Be All?

There were times when Stiles wondered if the world was set to make him everyone’s bitch. He was constantly doing things for everyone else. Helping Scott with his pack, every one of them nothing so much more than a floppy puppy in human form it seemed. Helping Deaton with the...weird magic shit. Hell, helping Derek not _die_. He always did things for everyone else. It was to the point that Stiles wasn’t even sure where his own desires lie. Did he want to be a detective the way he seemed to be defaulting to? Did he want to practice magic the way Deaton seemed to be pushing on him? 

The worst part was that Stiles didn’t even really...mind. Yeah, there were times when he would stop, look around, and have no idea who he was. But for all of that, it was more a case of not knowing in that moment what he wanted, not a more general, overall idea. Because then, two hours later, he’d be at the bottom of a pile of wolves, stomach full of Melissa’s good food, drowsy and content. For every moment of sharp snark he spouted, there were sixteen more of beautiful contentment and pleasure. 

Yeah, there were times he wanted to snarl something at Deaton, some cutting and cruel, “Will that be all?” to maybe show how very done he was with being used as a tool. And then Deaton would actually explain something or show him how to complete a rune or a spell that would be useful, and all of the edges would smooth back down for a while. 

Sometimes he wanted to punch Derek when the man showed up, bleeding, pale, and near death _again_ , wanted to scream at him while he removed whatever foreign object was impeding Derek’s healing, wanted to snarl, “Will that be all?” as Derek looked at him through exhausted, pained eyes as his flesh knit itself back up. But then Derek would be there, saving Scott’s life or Stiles’, draining someone’s pain without a word, and he...couldn’t. 

Sometimes he wanted to tell Scott to go to hell, where he wanted to tell the puppies to get their shit together and figure themselves out, that Stiles was just fucking _human_ and what did everyone expect him to do? Times when he wanted to throw down the last stack of whatever he’d found himself dealing with, and give them a cuttingly sarcastic, “Will that be all?” when everyone looked at him. And then there’d be a steak cooked exactly how he liked it at the next pack meeting, his favorite ridiculous cafe beverage waiting for him, a package of red vines on his computer desk, and he knew he never would. 

Because that was just it: Stiles never would. He would never snap the final thread on any of them because he knew it would never be all. There would always be more. There would always be a need for things he would do for them, whether or not he should, and even if he felt like he wasn’t appreciated, that they didn’t care, that no one saw… they did. They appreciated, they cared, they saw. 

And that was all.


End file.
